


Chica's Visit

by a_nonny_moose



Series: My AU [36]
Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 12:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12254106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: Chica meets the Egos, and chaos ensues.





	Chica's Visit

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” 

Mark stopped pacing to run a hand through his hair, looking down at Chica. She wagged her tail lazily, reveling in the attention.

“What could possibly go wrong?” Amy held Chica’s head in her lap, gently rubbing the underside of her chin. “The boys would love her! Wouldn’t they, Chica-beeka?” Amy put her hands on either side of Chica’s face, crooning at her. “Yes they would! Oh, yes they would!”  


Chica thumped her tail against the couch, eyes wide.

Mark groaned, heart melting. “I…okay, but–”

Amy jumped up, unfolding her legs from under her with all the grace of a newborn deer sliding on ice. 

 _Thump_. “Ow.”

Chica got there before Mark did, clambering on top of her, licking Amy’s face. 

Amy giggled. “Get off me, bub.”

“You ok?” Mark hovered over her, watching Amy scrunch her face against Chica’s kisses, her hair spread out like a halo behind her head.   


“Mmph,” came the reply, Chica’s snout in her face. Amy wiggled under her, laughing. “You’re heavy, bub,” she said, muffled, trying unsuccessfully to push Chica off her.   


“Oh no,” Mark said, staggering suddenly.   


Amy looked up in concern as Mark fell to his knees next to her. “Are you…?”

“Gravity… is increasing… on me,” Mark groaned, falling across her and Chica with his full weight.   


“No, it’s not!” Chica slipped away to lick Mark’s face from a safe distance, tail wagging madly. Amy swatted at him, trying to push him off.   


“Yes it is,” Mark said, lying with his eyes closed, face twisted away from Chica’s panting mouth. “The same thing happened yesterday!”  


“You rotten boyfriend, your butt is crushing me!”  


Mark wiggled it in the air, opening his eyes to see Amy scowling gently at him. He laughed, rolling off her. 

Amy sat up, Chica pushing her head into her lap. Amy pet her head, a smile touching her lips, lost in thought. “So,” she said, glancing up, “do you want to go to the office?” Chica’s entire body wagged with the movement of her tail, excited. 

Mark sighed, glancing from one blonde-haired beauty to the other. “All right, let’s go.”

* * *

Mark unlocked the front door of the office, holding it open to let in Chica, pulling at her lead, and then Amy. 

“They’ll be in the back,” Mark said, locking the door behind them.   


Amy walked Chica, sniffing madly, over to the back door that led to the rest of the office, hidden by Wilford and Dark’s magic. Her hand on the doorknob, she stopped. “You’re scared,” she said simply, looking over at Mark. 

Mark balled his hands in his pockets, fists around his keys, shoulders hunched. “Yeah,” he admitted, looking at Chica, looking at Amy, thinking of Dark. “Yeah, I am.”

Amy gave him a slow smile, understanding. “We can go, if you want…”

“No, no.” Mark took his hands out of his pockets, trying to compose himself. He knew how much introducing Chica to the Egos meant to her. “I’ll be fine,” he said, all in one breath, releasing the tension in a burst of air. “It’ll be fine.” He grinned, flipping a switch from worry to congenial.   


Amy returned the smile as Chica stuffed her nose into the crack of the door, snorting, wagging her tail. The door opened a crack, and had Mark and Amy not been lost in the other’s eyes, they would’ve been able to prevent what happened next. 

The clunk of the leash on the floor, the thump of the door swinging open, and the clatter of nails on wood– Chica took off running down the hallway towards the kitchen. 

Mark and Amy took a second longer to stare at each other, not enamored, but wide-eyed. “CHICA!”

They sprinted down the hallway after her, shoes sliding against the floor, stumbling over each other. Chica’s wagging tail disappeared in a door, followed by an alarmingly loud _clunk_.

“A dog?!”  


“A _dog_!”  


Amy skidded around the corner first, hair flying past her face, disheveled. Mark slid into her, panting. “Chica?”

Wilford was on his knees in the kitchen, Chica dancing around him in delight. “What a great puppy!” Wilford shouted, full volume, looking like a puppy himself. He lifted her paws to bring her to eye level with him, looking at her intently. “Hello!”

Bim, standing on the kitchen table and looking altogether uncomfortable, spotted the humans at the door. “Oh, hi, guys,” he said, voice pitched higher than usual. “Is… that… yours?”

Amy recovered before Mark did, and she smiled and put her hands on her hips. “Chica? Yeah, we brought her to say hi!” She beamed at Bim, still paling on top to the table. 

“Bim?” Mark shuffled in after her, crossing his arms, raising a playful eyebrow. “Are you scared of dogs?”  


Amy shot him an angry glance. _Insensitive much?_  But Bim smiled, a little shaky. “I’ve just… never seen one before.” He gulped, kneeling to look at Chica properly. “It seems neat.”

Amy grinned, walking over to him. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

As Amy coaxed Bim off the table, Mark turned to Wilford. “She seems to like you,” he said gruffly, watching them in amusement. 

Wilford, now flat on the floor as Chica jumped on him, giggled. “I like her! I think I’ll keep her.”

Mark’s heart jumped up into his throat, a jolt of panic. “She’s taken, Will.”

“Not for long,” Wilford replied, sing-song. Chica turned away from Wilford at the sound of Mark’s voice, tail hitting Wilford in the face. “Maybe not,” he muttered, tamping down his mustache with a free hand.   


Mark, a hand firmly on Chica’s leash again, chuckled as Wilford got to his feet, eyes gleaming. “I’m glad you like her,” Mark said, guarded. 

Wilford winked at him, a profoundly uncomfortable gesture, and patted Chica’s head. Chica looked from Mark to bubblegum-scented Mark, eyes wide, tongue lolling. A shared chuckle, and two sets of adoring eyes. 

Amy ushered Bim over, pushing gently at the small of his back. “Stretch your hand out,” she prompted. “Like you’re going to shake her, uh, hand.”

Bim carefully extended a hand to Chica, almost trembling with the effort. 

Chica leaned forward, blissfully unaware that all eyes were on her. Bim flinched back a little as her nose touched his hand, cool and wet and full of hot breath. 

A second, and Chica snorted, drops landing on Bim’s hand. She wasn’t quite sure why there was a Mark, and bubblegum-Mark, _and_  a suit-Mark, but they all seemed nice. She gave Bim’s extended hand a lick, gently nipping at his fingers, and nosed at his hand for a pet. 

Bim looked at Amy for confirmation, then gently ran his fingers around Chica’s ears. His face split into a smile. “Good girl,” he murmured, and she looked up at him with big, dopey eyes.

“She likes you,” Amy said, nudging him gently. 

Bim blushed a little, still focused on the softness of Chica’s ears. “I like her too.”  


A sound in the hallway behind them, like falling pots and pans, and: “Mark, it is nice to see you.”

Mark whipped around to see Google_G in the doorway, holding a stack of dirty plates. “Hey, Green, what’s up?”

He held up the dishes. “Host and Dark rarely leave their rooms, therefore it falls to the more… hygienic… of us to keep the office free of ants. The Doctor is busy today, and it is my turn to help.” He paused, fans whirring. “I see you have brought Chica.”

“I thought it’d be nice to introduce her to you guys,” Amy said, gesturing. “Do you want to meet her?”  


Google_G shrugged, setting the plates down. He offered his hand to Chica, eyes flashing gently. “Hello, canine.”

Chica looked up to see a metallic-smelling Mark with weird lights on him, but most importantly, an outstretched hand. She leaned forward, tugging at the leash, to nudge her head into his hand. Her tail wagged even harder at the anticipation of _four whole Marks_  to give her love.

Amy giggled, and Mark rubbed his head, a little lost. This was… weird. 

“Your affection is appreciated,” Google_G said, standing with a slight whirr. “But I have matters to attend to.” He inclined his head at the others, stiff, and walked back out of the room.  


Mark looked at Amy, a conversation in a glance. Amy sighed. “Well, guys, I guess we have work to do, too–”

“The Host would appreciate seeing you,” Google_G’s voice echoed down the hall, accompanied by a slamming door. 

Wilford looked between them, questioning, and Mark sighed. “We might as well,” he said, looking down at Chica, now nudging at Bim’s hand for a scratch behind the ears. 

Amy caught his eye again, a question, and Mark shrugged. “What could go wrong, right?”

* * *

Amy knocked on the door, Chica’s leash clutched in one hand. Mark stood just behind her, nervousness making its way up his spine. 

“Maybe he doesn’t want visitors,” Mark started, hopeful, but the door swung open warmly.   


“Come in, Mark and Amy,” came the Host’s voice from within. Flickering candlelight showed the outline of bookcases, and Amy stepped in with Chica straining at her leash.   


Mark clicked the door closed behind them as Chica pulled Amy forward, shuffling on strewn papers. “How are you, Host?” he said, a little nervous. Host was nice enough, but still uncomfortably omnipotent, uncomfortably powerful.

“Well.”  


Mark’s eyes adjusting to the darkness, he saw the Host turn his head towards the sound of Chica scrabbling forward, trying to get to this new ink and blood-smelling Mark. 

“That’s– that’s good.”  


“Hey, Host,” Amy said, struggling to keep Chica back. “We brought Chica with us, would you like to say hello?”  


“The Host fears that the dog will be terribly disappointed if he does not.” A chuckle, and the sound of a chair being moved. Amy moved forward, the Host emerging clearly from the gloom. “Hello, Chica.”  


Amy loosened the leash, and Chica walked forward tentatively. Ink was all right, but the blood was disconcerting. The Host put a hand down to her level, covered with ink and paper cuts. Well, it wasn’t normal-smelling Mark, but it was a very nice looking hand. She snorted into it, then turned, rubbing herself along the Host’s legs like a cat. 

Amy giggled, watching. “She’s a good dog.”

“Hmm.” the Host murmured, his hand finding a spot to scratch on Chica’s back. “Very.”  


“Do you like dogs, Host?” Mark asked, stepping over a pile of books.  


The Host almost laughed, a sad sound. “Liked. The Author had many animal visitors in his cabin, among them dogs.”

“Oh. Well,” Mark felt a blush, a stutter rising in his throat, “I’m glad you like her.”  


The Host nodded, lost in thought, a shadow playing across his face. Amy fidgeted nervously, the leash limp in her hand. 

“The Host will walk Mark and Amy out, if they like,” the Host said, sensing the discomfort.   


“Thanks,” Mark said, voice smaller than usual. He and Amy turned, shuffling around papers to the door, Chica trailing behind them with the Host.  


Almost at the door, Mark caught himself on a stack of books, knocking half of them to the ground. “Oops.”

“Ma-ark,” Amy said, rolling her eyes playfully. “You’ve made a mess.”  


“I got it, I got it,” Mark jabbed, stooping to pick up the books closest to him.   


The Host, a hand still on Chica’s head, walked past them, making for the door.

“Be careful, Host,” Amy said, bending to help Mark.   


Even as she said the words, a stray book found itself under the Host’s feet, and his breath caught in his throat. Chica, at his feet, looked up to see ink and blood-smelling Mark starting to fall off balance, lost in the dark. She padded in place, pressing her side against the Host’s leg, almost a gentle direction. 

Amy jumped upright, hearing the Host stumble. Misplaced books were an unmemorized obstacle, something the Host actively avoided. Chica looked over at the sound, a lopsided smile on her face, and the Host caught his balance against Chica’s shoulder. “Host, are you okay?”

A puff of breath, and then: “Yes, yes.” More quiet, not for anyone’s ears but his own: “Thank you, Chica.”

Mark scooped the rest of the books into a hurried pile and bolted to the door, holding it open for the others. Amy ducked out first, blushing, apologetic, dragging Chica with her. Chica gave the Host a last sniff, then turned to follow her. Mark, mumbling apologies, turned to go. 

“Mark,” the Host stopped him with a light hand on his shoulder. “The Host thanks you for visiting.”  


“Er,” Mark stuttered, surprised, “no problem, Host. It’s always good to see you–”  


The Host waved at him, cutting him off. “Do not be afraid of us, Mark. We may not be human, but we have feelings all the same.” A beat, and the Host smiled, more of a leer. “I suggest you do not injure them.” The Host gave Chica a last pat, then shut the door silently behind him. 

Mark gave a full-body shudder, feeling shadows swoop over him. “Hey, Amy?”

Amy looked up, fixing Chica’s leash back to her collar. “Hmm?”

“Let’s go home, please?”  


“Of course.” Amy squeezed his hand in apology, understanding, and they walked back towards the main office.   


* * *

Mark had his keys in his hand, even. This could’ve been a nice visit to the office, with only one or two heart-pounding moments. 

Could’ve been.

“It’s nice to see you around, the famous Markiplier.”  


“Fuck off, Dark.”  


“Now,” Dark said, folding his arms behind his back, “that’s no way to treat a friend, is it?”  


“ _Friend_ ,” Mark scoffed, defenses bristling. “We were just leaving.”  


“We? Ah,” Dark smirked, looking over his shoulder, into the hallway. “Miss Amy, the pleasure is all mine.”  


“It sure is,” Mark muttered under his breath.  


Amy, pulling Chica away from sniffing the smoke curling from under the Googles’ door, shot a glare at him before turning to Dark, a determined smile on her face. “Hey, Dark. How are you?”

“I’m well,” Dark said, smiling widely, teeth glinting. “ _Very_  well.”  


Amy smiled politely, and Mark jumped in. “Right. Well, Dark, as I said, we’re leaving.”

Dark’s aura swirled around him, tendrils seeming to close the distance between them. “So soon?”

Mark jerked back, eyes narrowing. “Yeah. As in, now.” He turned over his shoulder to make sure that Amy was right behind him, Chica trailing her. “C’mon, let’s–”

Dark’s eyes widened. “I, ah, don’t believe you’ve introduced me.”

Mark shot a terrified glance at Amy, who followed his gaze to Chica, tail wagging slowly. Another suit-Mark? This one smelled like a pop of lightning, hot tar in a parking lot. A friend? She stepped forward. 

Mark hooked a finger into Chica’s collar, stopping her. “No,” he commanded, voice low. “Chica, no.”

Dark tilted his head at her, quivering nose and twitching fur. “It’s cute,” he said, dry, trying to hide the tension in his chest.

Mark bristled. “Chica,” he said, shortly, loudly. “Her name is Chica.”

Amy raised an eyebrow, still on edge. “Would you… would you like to say hello?”

“No.” Mark looked at Amy, eyes wide, begging, terrified. “No, he wouldn’t.”  


Dark took a half step back, feeling his own aura tugging at its leash, begging to manifest. “Hello,” he said, a little unsteady, trying not to let it show.  


Amy watched Dark’s aura curl back, prancing around him, unsteady shapes forming in the smoke. She squeezed Mark’s hand, a warning more than a reassurance, and let Chica’s leash fall from her hand. “Let her go,” she murmured, eyes on Dark, who was struggling to keep his aura from splitting his shell. 

“Amy,” Mark started, a tremble to his voice.   


“I know,” Amy said, glancing at him. “Let her go.”  


Slowly, hesitantly, Mark let Chica’s collar go. Chica trotted forward, tail low, ears back, sniffing at Dark, sniffing at the aura surrounding him. 

“Stretch your hand out,” Amy started to suggest, but Dark was already sitting on his heels, a palm up for Chica to sniff.   


Mark held his breath, watching every lashing movement of Dark’s aura.

After a moment, Chica pushed her nose into Dark’s hand, tail wagging. He was a cold, strange-smelling Mark, but a Mark all the same. 

Amy nudged Mark, seeing Chica flop down for a pet. _Told you so._

He nudged her back, nervous. _Don’t speak so soon_.

It seemed like they’d just blinked, and there was another dog in the room with them. Dark was reaching curiously for Chica one second, and the next, a giant hound that seemed to be made of shifting shadows and glowing stars was towering over the two of them. Every trace of smoke seemed to be trapped in her coat, with every breath. 

Mark flinched, reaching out for Chica, but Amy stopped him. “Look,” she breathed. “Just look.”

The giant dog lowered her head, and Dark lifted his free hand to press against her cheek. Chica, now fully on her back and appreciating a belly-rub, looked up to see another dog four times her size, towering over her. She rolled to her feet, backing away.

“I think that’s enough,” Mark said, finding a very small voice in his throat, raising his hand again to call Chica back.   


It was as if Chica didn’t hear him, frozen to the spot. It was the looming hound on one end of the office, Chica cowering on the other, Dark squatting between them. The dark hound– his aura, Amy figured– sat by his side with a heavy, graceful movement. Her eyes, a bright, glowing red, blinked, chin raised in a dignified pose. 

Chica wasn’t listening to Mark calling her name with increasing desperation. Even with her tail nearly between her legs, she padded slowly forward, nose twitching. Dark extended a hand to her, welcoming. 

A beat, and Chica stepped forward to be level with Dark’s hand, giving him a passing sniff. A beat, and Chica was nose-to-nose with Dark’s aura. 

She sniffed her, a blonde spot in the swirling smoke, and the giant hound sat watching with distant curiosity. 

“Good girls,” Dark murmured, and Mark felt his stomach turn in his throat.   


Chica snorted, an audible puff of air, and dropped gently to the ground, tail still wagging. She nosed at the larger, darker dog’s snout (Dark’s aura looked at her in what seemed to be amusement bordering on disinterest), then at Dark’s hand, rolling over again for a belly rub. 

Mark breathed. 

* * *

They didn’t talk about it, the way Dark’s features softened as he looked at Chica, and Dark didn’t expect them to. But now, Chica came to the office more often, with her own bed in a corner. Eventually, whenever she was there, Dark’s door was cracked open an inch or two.

The Host left his door open, for air, he said, but only when Chica was around. 

The studio, with Bim inside, was always firmly locked whenever she visited; but Wilford’s room was thrown open, homemade and Amy-approved chew toys all over the floor. 

The Googles left their door closed, wires now protected in chew-proof casing, but they offered to help more when Chica was around. Oliver found that he wouldn’t overheat as much with Chica’s ears between his fingers, and Google_R blew off steam throwing balls for her. Google_B and _G looked on with amusement, but never denied her a pet when she passed their computers. 

When the Doctor descended from his his clinic after a week spent shut in and working, he found the office covered liberally in fur and himself one of ten dads to Chica, honorary Ego mascot. 

And the one and only good Girl? Chica spent her time chasing balls outside, being petted by twenty different hands, guiding people around the labyrinths of the office, and occasionally, coming nose to nose with Cerberus herself. 


End file.
